


Kiss From An Ice Blue Rose

by Pink_and_Velvet



Series: Writers Month: August 2019 [23]
Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Anniversary, Boys Kissing, Candles, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Important date, M/M, Roses, Strained Relationship, Sunsets, Wine, beach date, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 16:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20392510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: ~~Iceman had just kept shrugging it off internally, settling forit’s Maverick for Christ’s sake. Why would he ever remember such a silly thing?Although Iceman couldn’t lie that it hurt. Perhaps a lot more than he thought it ought too but it did most definitely, hurt.~~Writersmonth Day 25 Prompt:Flowers





	Kiss From An Ice Blue Rose

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I get for watching _Batman Forever_ last night.__

**May 16th 1996:** Ten years to the day that they met. First locked glances, locked horns. The first time his eyes ran up and down those tender, nimble fingers, those crystal clear hazel eyes and those perfectly plush lips. Ten years.

* * *

Iceman was uncharacteristically colder than usual, knowing this date was quickly approaching. Maverick hadn’t really said anything in the run up to it. In his house, in the hangar, or Iceman’s bed for that matter. Iceman had just kept shrugging it off internally, settling for _it’s Maverick for Christ’s sake. Why would he ever remember such a silly thing? _Although Iceman couldn’t lie that it hurt. Perhaps a lot more than he thought it ought too but it did most definitely, hurt.

The week leading up to the anniversary, he busied himself more with tinkering with the jets, covering extra hops and running more. He stayed out a couple of nights, drinking, as he watched the next class flirting and fighting their way to the top before the eight weeks had even begun. He had been noticed a couple of times, he blamed his insignia but every time a new student accidentally bumped his shoulders or ran into him, he just smiled and took in the sights. He had already, in his mind, placed his bets for this years TOPGUNS: Whiplash and Shortstack, they were just so perfect for one another and Iceman could already tell that this pilot would never not have a trick up her sleeve. His thoughts didn’t even waver.

_Shortstack. Maverick._ He cursed, then downed another shot.

But what probably hurt him the most of all that week was Maverick. Not seeing him, not wanting to be around him. The fact that Iceman couldn’t bring himself to try and jog his memory or, to turn up on Maverick’s doorstep late one night with a _Its been ten years, how have you not driven me crazy? _congratulatory rose bouquet and beer. The thought of Iceman doing such a thing seemed absurd, he laughed about it, shaking his head with disbelief as other fluffy moments filled his mind, all somehow involving roses, and Maverick’s endearing smile was the most beautiful sight for Iceman to behold. 

* * *

When the day rolled around Iceman acted casual, getting to work early to get ahead on his paperwork. He sighed, eyes landing over the stack of hell on his desk, fingered his uniform for his pen and began fiddling. Up and down, up and across, faster and faster, the pen flowed. He almost missed the figure who slipped in through the door.

_Maverick. Pete “Maverick Mitchell. Maverick._

He was thankful that he didn’t drop his pen but inwardly groaned as it’s fitful dance stuttered halfway across his ring. It appeared to have been noticed and noted.

Maverick simply strutted over, gaze firm and jaw set; with a small pile of flight evaluations for Iceman. How could he have forgotten? _Oh yeah_, he was reminded, _Maverick_. He stalked out of the room, offering Iceman a playful yet strangely menacing salute at the door. Iceman groaned, latching his pen back onto his uniform as he began to shift through the imposing stack.

“What the—“ His gaze locked on a yellow post it, the scribble, red and daring, and he swore. He had smiled.

_Marina, 8pm SHARP. Bring a blanket._

“Goddamnit Maverick, quick and to the point.” Iceman mumbled, stuffing the post it into his breast pocket. He couldn’t help himself, he smiled again.

* * *

The day dragged and dragged. Iceman was tense and he had accidentally caused a heated debate in his afternoon class, for which he didn’t care to fight for so, as a true gentlemen, he just stepped back and let the pilots argue amongst themselves.

It had been about twenty minutes. He just leant against his desk, arms folded and his thoughts shifted. The words glaring on the post-it note echoed in his head, as though Maverick had whispered them into his ear. He shivered, as though Maverick had touched him. His eyes slipped shut, as though Maverick had slipped in—

“You stupid piece of shit, there’s no way in hell anyone would be stupid enough to go _inverted_ at that distance.-“ Shortstack yelled and that, bought him out of his daze. He was sure his blush would give him away.

“Commander Mitchell has.. or at least, he wants us to believe so.” Whiplash chimed in, voicing her disapproval.

Iceman hadn’t even realised that they were discussing Maverick until this moment. He chuckled to himself.

“Woah, woah, woah. Excuse me, Captain but uh, did you just.. _laugh_?!”

His hazel eyes widened and his gaze fell upon his feet. Goddamnit Maverick.

“You got me, Lightning bolt.” Iceman winked as Flash just kept on laughing.

“Apparently Commander Mitchell has a Polaroid. I too, believe that manoeuvre to be absolute _bullshit_. I called him out on it, ten yea—“ He paused, blonde eyebrows furrowing.

”Sir?”

He fidgeted. “Ten years. Ten years since he.. ten years.” 

* * *

He had decided to stay late, delving deep back into the F-5 flight evaluations and promptly noted to lay all of these plus at least half of his own heap on Maverick’s own desk of organised chaos. Or, just chaos. A whirlwind or chaos.

Iceman’s thoughts strayed from the renegade little shit planning this and delivering that as he drove home, maybe a little faster than he usually would drive. Maybe not. He was still oddly tense and decided, _just keep breathing, just keep breathing and watch out for the- fuck!_

_Maverick_.

He hadn’t noticed Iceman. He was walking, for a change, hands full of stuff. He couldn’t quite make out what, he had just slid past him, BMW tyres screeching ever so slightly as the sudden jolt forced him to take a slightly sharper turn than what he would like to take credit for. Iceman just kept his eyes forward and began mentally planning out tonight’s attire. Beach. Sand. Waves. _Maverick, Maverick, Maverick _his mind screamed.

* * *

The clock was ticking, it was now just past 19:30 hours. Iceman was sweating, slightly, he watched a bead roll down his cheek and he stood face to face with his reflection. He popped open the top button of his pristine, ironed and re-ironed baby blue shirt, so that his dog-tags would catch the light. He popped open the second then moved his golden pen to his pocket. He held it in his hands, a familiar weight, for a moment and steadied himself. 

He also shoved a small packet of lube into his bomber jacket pocket, a condom in the other. Iceman had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t be coming home tonight and Maverick, likely wouldn’t have bought any of this particular aid with him. That and, there would be sand in all sorts of crevices that he really didn’t want there to be any sand. Oh well.

Iceman took a brisk ten minute walk down to the beach. Then he paced up and down a couple of times, as he was thankful; the evening air helping to not choke him.

It was then that he saw it. A figure, splayed out in the sand atop of a blanket, with a little light. It called him over, Iceman shuffled, trudging his way through the sand to the far end of the secluded beach. It was nearing sunset but Maverick’s form wasn’t exactly hidden, his stance still sung of an alluring and irritable hotshot in every damn way.

Iceman revelled in it.

Maverick rose to his feet as Iceman, took in the scene. His eyes roamed all over the blanket, _shit, he wanted another blanket, _the wine bottle, the candles… the roses. 

They were blue, a striking cobalt. They were blue, a muted ice. Iceman smiled, huge and bright, as he crouched down to pick up a petal. His mouth was moving but his voice was slow to catch up so Maverick, somehow a step ahead, pulled Iceman up and kissed him. Lips smooth, his breath was warm and tender. Iceman melted into the kiss, breaking off as Maverick carried on a small trail down his neck. _Bless him, he was on his tip toes._

Maverick clutched at Iceman’s jacket and he took the hint, shrugging it off. It fell into the sand and Iceman winced, at seeing it’s contents sprawled out into the sand.

Maverick eyed him. A long, sideways glance from the stray condom to Iceman. The stray lube to Iceman, who blushed violently. 

“So, I wasn’t exactly planning of doing _that_.. here—“

“—Shit, Mav. I know.. I just wasn’t, didn’t think, I—“

“But fuck it, Kazansky, I’m game if you are.”

At that, Iceman’s hazel eyes widened as he gasped. His gaze shamelessly roamed Maverick’s body as he stripped himself of his beaten bomber, letting it fall atop of Iceman’s. Maverick coaxed him down so they sat side by side, a calloused hand massaging Iceman’s muscular shoulders.

The two men sat in near silence, wine glasses in hand, as Iceman embraced the roses. Their colour, their beauty. How the sun caught them as she bid farewell for another night. They sat, in a loving embrace, and watched her colours bleed into the sombre sea, the striking sunset was the most beautiful sight. Iceman knew that tears were pricking at his eyes and was thankful, that Maverick had kept quiet if he had even noticed.

“Ten years, Kazansky. Ten. Fucking. _Years_. How in the hell are you still putting up with me?” Maverick’s voice was teasing, his eyes never leaving Iceman’s trim silhouette.

Iceman turned and sniffed, “You’ll never let me out of your sight. When would I even get the chance to be with another man? Radar lock.” _Why would I ever want another man?_

“Glad to be of service.” He winked and Iceman leant forward, a hand in Maverick’s hair as he brushed their lips together.

They kissed, slow and steady, backlit by the sunset. The sunset that was only disrupted by two sudden jets, flying side by side. As each other’s wingman.


End file.
